Saturday, August 31, 2013

At the turn of the last century police were carefully
watching the five-story building at No. 105 Second Avenue.John Mikolaus had operated his restaurant,
The Crystal Palace Café, from the ground floor since around 1895, renting the
modest apartments upstairs.But rumors
of an illegal “gambling house” in the building keep detectives on alert.

Traveling salesman Abraham Ginsberg gave credence to the
allegations when he lodged a complaint in April 1903.“He said he had made an engagement to meet a
man in the café Thursay, and that while there he was induced to play stuss, a
German card game.His money, he said,
was soon gone, and then he discovered that the cards had been marked.”

Despite the questionable goings-on, Mikolaus was a fair
employer and when waiters across the city went on strike in 1915, his staff
stood by him.On December 14 a mob of
several hundred strikers gathered outside the restaurant.They pushed their way into the establishment,
telling diners not to eat there and intimidating the waiters to join them.Neither happened.

Angry, the rabble broke mirrors, overturned tables and
hurled bricks through the windows.The
New York Times reported “Mikolaus was dragged onto the sidewalk, where the
crowd fell upon and beat him.In the
scuffle his diamond pin worth $275 was removed from his tie and $40 was taken
from a pocket.In another pocket $900
escaped unnoticed.”

Apparently convinced that the best way to achieve fair
working conditions was through violence and theft, the mob turned on John
Mikolaus, Jr., a muscular, athletic young man whom The Times called “more than
a match for all who could reach him.”

The younger Mikolaus “knocked down man after man until
someone struck him on the head with a blackjack.Although the wound required five stitches later
to sew it up, it did not stop Mikolaus and he was still fighting when Policeman
Doyle of the Fifth Street Station ran up, saw the mob now numbering nearly
1,000, and sent in a call for the reserves.”

The mob “slunk away” with the arrival of police back-up; but
eight were arrested on charges of grand larceny.There were, strangely enough, no arrests for
assault or destruction of property.

The restaurant sat squarely in what was by now the epicenter
of Jewish life.New York City had the
largest Jewish population of any city in the world.Second Avenue around Mikolaus’ building
became known as The Jewish Rialto--named for the string of Yiddish-language theaters
that opened between Houston Street and 14th Streets.By the early 1920s an entire star system had
developed among the Yiddish actors.

After three decades of doing business here, John Mikolaus
sold his building in October 1924.The
New York Times reported that the buyer would “improve the property.”“Improving property” in the early decades of
the last century translated into demolishing and replacing whatever stood on
the site.And, indeed, the M. & S.
Circuit Company did just that.

The new owners commissioned architect Harrison G. Wiseman to
design a five-story vaudeville theater-and-office building.Completed within the year, it was a rather
bland red brick structure trimmed in stone with tepid Moorish influence.Any focus to ornamentation was reserved for
the interiors.Here Art Deco joined with
classic, dramatic theater architecture—vaulted arches, gilded and polychrome
pilasters and medallions, and chandeliers.

The 2,830-seat Commodore Theatre did not last long as a
Yiddish playhouse, though.Quickly it
was taken over by the Loews motion picture chain.Loews gently moved from live acts to movies,
offering both during the first years of operation.In a brilliant marketing move, the chain hired professional baseball
players on the off-season of 1928 to lure customers.The Times reported on October 5 “Andrew
(Andy) Cohen and J. Francis (Shanty) Hogan, who during the baseball season are
members of the New York Giants, have been engaged by the Loew Circuit, it is
announced.They will make their first
appearances on Oct. 15 at Loew’s Commodore Theatre, Second Avenue and Sixth
Street.”

One year later the Great Depression hit and
began a dismal period of unemployment.Among the hardest hit were the already impoverished residents of the
Lower East Side.On November 26, 1931 the
Commodore was the scene of a moving rally.

“More than 4,000 east side children attended a meeting and
movie show at the Commodore Theatre,” said The Times.The event signaled the end of a children-run
campaign for unemployment relief.“The
pennies of all these children and many thousands more, pupils of Jewish schools
and Jewish parochial schools, have gone to swell the unemployment relief fund,
it was reported at the meeting.In
addition, the children visited 12,000 stores and 6,000 homes for contributions,
as part of the block-to-block canvass being conducted by the Emergency
Unemployment Relief Committee.”

In 1936 the double-feature included Mae Clarke in "Hearts in Bondage" and Robert Young in "The Longest Night." photo NYPL Collection

In 1956 New York City police were confounded by a “Mad
Bomber,” who kept the bomb squad rushing from one crowded building to
another.The bomber called in the
locations of his devices—most just harmless facsimiles; others far too real.A live pipe bomb was found in a telephone
booth in the main New York Public Library and another in the Paramount Theatre
on Broadway and 43rd Street.They were detonated by the squad.

As reports were published in newspapers, hoaxers got in to
the act.The number of calls became so
great that, in frustration, Chief of Detectives James B. Leggett ordered the
bomb squad to cease responding to alarms unless a device was actually
discovered.It was, as described by The
Times, “a field day for cranks, holiday-season pranksters, lunatic fringers and
youths with a perverted sense of humor.”

On December 18, 1956 alone, telephoned threats were directed
at “a church, a hospital, the new Coliseum, the new forty-five story
Socony-Mobil Building, Grand Central Terminal, the Port Authority Bus Terminal,
Carnegie Hall Studios, a department store in Brooklyn, hotels, subway stations,
and trains, bank buildings, newspaper offices, neighborhood movie theatres, and
just plain buildings.”The Commodore was
not immune.“Another dud that sent the
police racing to the scene was found at the Commodore Theatre on Second Avenue
near Sixth Street,” said The Times.

In October 1963 the Commodore became the Village Theatre
when a syndicate run by Joseph R. Burstin, Milt Warner and Bernard Waltzer purchased
the building.The new owners told
reporters it would be renovated into an off-Broadway live theater, stressing it
“would not be burlesque,” according to The Times.The renovated space opened in November 1964
and, despite the promise, offered burlesque.

The venture failed.On December 24 the following year The Times noted that the theater was “recently
the scene of two ill-fated attempts to revive burlesque.”Roger Euster purchased the Village Theater, hoping to
develop it into “a prime showcase for Broadway productions.”

Theater would give way to concerts when in 1967 WOR-FM radio
station staged a live music event here to celebrate its first anniversary.The audience heard performances by Janis
Ian, The Doors, Richie Havens, The Blue Project and other popular groups.It was the beginning of a new period for the
venue and musical history in America.

Bill Graham Presents purchased the building shortly
afterwards.On March 8, 1968 it reopened
as the Fillmore East, the New York bookend to Graham’s San Francisco Fillmore
West.It quickly became the mecca of East
Coast popular music lovers, staging several concerts a week.The first year alone Big Brother & the
Holding Company, The Doors; Richie Havens, The Who, Mothers of Invention, the
James Cotton Band, Iron Butterfly, Jefferson Airplane, Jimi Hendrix, Sly and
the Family Stone, the Byrds, Ravi Shankar, Moby Grape. The Grateful Dead,
Steppenwolf, Joan Baez, Blood Sweat and Tears, the Beach Boys, Creedence
Clearwater Revival, the Moody Blues, and Fleetwood Mac played here.

Then, citing “changes in music” and saying “this is an
industry we can no longer work in with integrity,” Graham closed down the
Fillmore East on June 27, 1971.The
iconic venue which George Gent of The New York Times called “the best showplace for rock
music in New York” sat dark for over three years; until Barry Stuart reopened
it as the NFE Theatre with a concert by Bachman-Turner Overdrive.The acronym stood for New Fillmore East and,
reportedly, Bill Graham objected to the name, resulting in its being changed to
Village East.

Stuart’s concert venue would survive for only four
years.After its 1975 closing, the
building again sat dark until 1980 when entrepreneur Bruce Mailman and his partner, architectural
designer Charles Terrell converted it to the country’s ultimate gay club—The Saint.
The $4.5 million renovation set the
standard for disco-period nightclubs nationwide.Thousands crowded onto a 5,000 square-foot
circular dance floor below a domed planetarium ceiling.The rotating, dual Spitz Space System
hemisphere star projector was ten times more powerful than those used in planetariums.Celebrity performers like Helen Reddy, Chita
Rivera, the Weather Girls, Maureen McGovern and Melba Moore entertained the
audiences.

But the lavish club that kept ahead of competition by
annually remodeling itself had opened at the beginning of the AIDS epidemic.By the end of its second year, New York’s gay
population was being decimated.In 1987
the Saint, as iconic in its own sense as the Fillmore East, closed its doors
for good.A former patron said “The
Saint was killed by AIDS.Its clients
were literally dying.”

photo by Alice Lum

Today the ground floor space is a disappointing denouement
to a remarkable story. Where Yiddish
theater was followed by motion pictures, where burlesque was followed by
Off-Broadway plays, where Janis Joplin entertained thousands before gay men
danced below a gigantic planetarium is now a bland bank office.The generations who remember No. 105 Second
Avenue as the Village Theatre, the Fillmore East, or the Saint are fading and
the history that played out inside the unremarkable building is mostly
forgotten.

Friday, August 30, 2013

In the late 1820s the Reverend Edward Irving was pastor of
the Scottish Church on Regent Square in London.But Edward Irving had an epiphany and broke away from the church, founding the Catholic Apostolic Church.Irving was “deposed” from the church and “the members are
sometimes called Irvingites on this account,” explained The New York Times more
than half a century later.

In 1887, Frank Leslie’s Sunday Magazine would call it “one
of the oddest denominations in the world.”The strongest belief of the new sect was that the Second Coming was
right around the corner—precisely it would come about in 1835.

Twelve “apostles” were chosen and only they had the power to
ordain priests and bishops, called “angels”.When 1835 came and went without the Second Coming, the church simply
revised its calculations and moved on; eventually branching out to New York
City in 1848.

The small brick church in Greenwich Village that the new
congregation took over was sufficient until 1885 when the growing membership necessitated
a larger structure.In 1885 the Catholic Apostolic Church sold its
West 16th Street building to the Eglise Evangelique Francaise and
laid plans for a new building further uptown.

On July 1 of that year The Sun reported on the planned
structure.“The Catholic Apostolic
Church, which for thirty years has worshipped in a little building in Sixteenth
street, between Sixth and Seventh avenues, is building a new church on
Fifty-seventh street, near Ninth avenue.It will cost about $50,000.The
corner stone was laid yesterday.”

photo by Alice Lum

The newspaper made note that the sect was still not
wide-spread.“This is the only Catholic
Apostolic church in the city.There is
one in Boston, and there are three in Connecticut and seven in London.”

Although the cornerstone was laid there was the matter of
paying for the structure.The $50,000
which The Sun predicted the church would cost equates to around $1 million
today.On November 12, 1886 The New York
Times reported that “The Church Building Trust Association has been
incorporated ‘to establish a place in this city for the purpose of enabling the
ministers and baptized people acknowledging the ecclesiastical authority of the
College of Apostles, heretofore having its headquarters at Albury, England, to
conduct Christian worship according to the doctrine of the Catholic Apostolic
church.”

Francis Hatch Kimball was given the commission to design a
new church building at No. 417 West 57th Street.Actual construction began in 1886 and was
completed a year later.The architect
created a singular design that refused to be categorized in any pre-existing
architectural category.Kimball mixed
materials—orange brick, terra cotta, brownstone, and tile—and styles—Gothic Revival
and Renaissance Revival with a splash of Queen Anne.The result was a hefty presence of arches and
spires, textures and angles.The Sun
said there was “a touch of Byzantine style in its façade.”Like its congregation, the church building
was quite unlike any other in the city.

photo by Alice Lum

The Sun said “The interior has much in common with the early
Christian basilicas.Its seating
capacity does not exceed four hundred…The low pulpit stands in the nave, while
the chancel has many prie dieux.The
seats are high-backed.”

The congregation was worshiping in its new home by the
beginning of the year.The priests
delivered morning and evening sermons every Sunday.The topics are somewhat surprising to modern
minds, like one on February 27, 1887—“Will Jesus Christ every really be King in
the United States?”

Brick, brownstone and terra cotta work together in the eccentric design -- photo by Alice Lum

Two weeks earlier, Rev. Davenport had predicted the end of
the world in his sermon “The Terrible Calamities which Threaten Europe and
America.”Using the fourth chapter of
Matthew in which Christ lays out the steps to the world’s end, Davenport
pointed out that they had all come to pass.

The Times recapped:“The
first age, that of persecution, when martyrs bore terrible witness to the faith
that was in them; the second that of internal dissension, when the chiefs of
the church were set against each other; the third when false prophets arose and
preached liberty and equality and all manner of impossible things, and the
fourth that of lawlessness, when in consequence of false teachers men had lost
the fear of God—all these were exact verifications of the evil signs foretold
by the great prophet, Christ.”

The evening services were deemed “special services for
strangers,” and were perhaps a means of recruiting new members.The subject of the special service on March
13, 1887 was “The End of the Age.”

As in 1835, neither the end of the world nor the Second Coming came to pass.

The Sun later noted that “That church is always open and
rarely empty.Men and women enter at all
hours of the day, fall on their knees in one of the pews, remain immovable for
a few minutes and depart quietly.To the
outsider it seems as if some kind of service was going on all the time.”

On December 4, 1893 The New York Times attempted to explain the
functioning of the Catholic Apostolic Church. Of the twelve apostles Francis V.
Woodhouse only was still living.“Woodhouse
is over eighty,” said the newspaper.“The
New-York church has at its head the Angel, and under him a long list of elders,
priests, deacons, sub-deacons, a deaconesses.The latter officiate in acts of charity and render assistance particularly
to the women of the parish.”

The article described the service. “It is impressive, not
so ceremonious as in some of the ritualistic Episcopal churches, but requiring
more assistants.The vestments are very
rich.At one side of the chancel is the
throne, which is the seat of the angel.Angel is the old word, as used in the book of Revelation for the Bishop
of a church, and throughout the Bible in the correct sense, of messenger,
spiritual or otherwise.

“The Catholic Apostolic Church has also an order of
Archangels, whose office is above that of the Angels.They govern single churches.Angel
evangelists are visiting Angels…An ordination to the priesthood does not confer
the title of Reverend upon the candidate unless it had previously belonged to
him.Thus, the angel of the New-York
Church is Stephen Rintoul, while an assistant is the Rev. C. A. G. Bridgham.”

The newspaper brought up a question rarely spoken among
congregants.“What is to be done when
this remaining head of the Church shall die has not been revealed, but there is
no lack of faith that either the last days will come or new Apostles be
appointed.”

The church in 1929 -- photo NYPL Collection

Six years later, with the last apostle Frances Vilton
Woodhouse now 95 years old, six evangelists headed to New York City in
anticipation of the Second Coming.On
November 19, 1899 The Sun wrote “It is difficult to connect this quiet,
incense-filled church with the gigantic posters that appeared suddenly on all
the signboards of this city about five weeks ago forcing upon the curious and
the indifference alike an announcement of ‘the near coming of the Lord’ and
noticed of a series of evangelistic meetings to be held every Sunday evening at
six different places simultaneously.”

The newspaper said “The present activity, which has resulted
in the dispatching of six evangelists to this country, seems to have been
caused by the expectation that Christ’s promise to his first apostles must be
fulfilled before the last member of the second apostleship passes away.”

The church was correct in anticipating Woodhouse’s passing—he
died within the year—however once again neither the end of the world nor the
Second Coming came to pass.There was
no longer anyone with the power to ordain priests or perform the duties of the
head of the church. Woodhouse’s death
ushered in “the time of silence” during which congregants would wait for divine
direction.

photo by Alice Lum

In 1942 attention was focused on a more earthly issue.In the sweltering summer heat, city residents
often sought relief by sleeping on fire escapes and rooftops.On July 18 two girls—Ann Smith and Myrtle
Rosengrants, aged 11 and 16 years old—went to the roof of their apartment
building next door at No. 415 West 57th Street.“Frightened by the appearance on the roof of
a strange man, the girls…backed up to the edge of the building, stumbled over
the one-foot safety wall and fell twenty-five feet from the roof of their home…to
the church roof,” reported The Times.

The two terrified girls clung to the tiled roof of the Catholic
Apostolic Church while neighbors called police.Emergency squad detectives Thomas Childs and
Joseph Demas donned safety belts on the apartment building roof. “Demas lowered himself by Childs’s arms and
dropped to the church roof.The younger
girl, Ann, fainted as he reached her,” said the newspaper.

After the girls were hoisted to the roof of their building,
they were taken to Roosevelt Hospital.They both had broken left arms.

The time of silence lasted throughout the 20th
century.By 1995 the decimated
congregation realized it could no longer sustain the venerable edifice.Fearful that the church building would be
converted to a club or retail space, it offered it to the Lutheran Life’s
Journey Ministries.

The Lutheran Church initiated a restoration of the 110-year
old church, cleaning the façade and replacing any missing terra cotta
elements.Architect Andrew Levenbaum
spearheaded the renovation of the interior space.A bizarre discovery was made in the
basement when the original terra cotta cross from the roof was found buried below
three feet of soil.

photo by Alice Lum

Restored, Kimball’s wonderful building was rededicated in
1997 as the Church for All Nations—a surprising gem on an otherwise mundane
block.

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Above the exquisite doorway and molded metal lintel was applied to the original stone one -- photo by Alice Lum

In 1827 Henry Street on Manhattan’s Lower East Side was
undergoing rapid development.Brick-clad
Federal-style homes were erected for the city’s well-to-do merchant class.No. 265 was completed that year, one of a
row of elegant residences boasting costly touches. At No. 265 these included Flemish-bond
brickwork above a brownstone basement, an elaborate door frame with fluted Ionic
colunnettes and intricate iron cage newels.

In the years just prior to the Civil War Alderman Thomas W.
Adams lived in the house.He was seriously ill at the start of his last
term, which ended with his retirement on December 31, 1859. At 2:00 on the afternoon of January 3, 1860 a group
of citizens assembled at the Henry Street house.The New York Times reported that “Mr. Wm. L.
Ely, on their behalf, presented to Mr. Adams an elegant gold watch, with
hunting-case, gold chains, pencil-case and key, all costing $363.”The gifts represented a substantial testimonial
worth about $7,000 today.

Ely told Adams that the assembled citizens “desire me to
say, and I cheerfully and heartily indorse the sentiment, that they have tried
you, both as a friend and a Democrat, and never found you wanting.Your course has been consistent with right
and with the principles of Democracy, and as such is approved.This testimonial is presented by friends who
claim a place in your memory.”

An emotional Thomas Adams told the crowd “I never have
allowed myself to stoop to anything low or contemptible in the eyes of the
public to subserve party ends, and as I am under many obligations to you,
gentlemen, for attending to my interests at the last election, when I lay sick
and disabled, and not able to attend to my own, receive my kind respects and my
wishes through life for your future prosperity and happiness.I accept this token of respect to me as a
private citizen, which I am now, and wish you all a happy new year.”

Following his acceptance speech, Adams invited the group
into another room “where refreshments were bounteously provided.”

Charles W. Moores was next to move into No. 265 Henry Street.When
Union soldier Charles T. Jenkins of Company D of the 40th Regiment
Ohio Volunteers died in New York on Thursday, April 3, 1863, the Moores family
offered the house for his funeral.Only four months later, on August 27, Charles’ son William was drafted
into the conflict.

William Moores would survive the Civil War and rise to the position
of Dean of the Board of Directors of the Empire City Savings Bank.When the Seventh Regiment staged a gala
reception two decades later, on February 22, 1881, The Times noted that “The
gentlemen wore the regulation evening dress, and the members of the regiment
were only distinguishable from the civilians by their handsome regimental pins
which they displayed upon the lapels of their vests.Among those present were…A. H. T. Timpson and
William Moores, two of the oldest members of the regiment, with their wives.”

By 1893 the Henry Street neighborhood was no longer the stylish
enclave it had been during the Civil War. Wealthy residents had moved away and tenement
houses crowded with impoverished immigrants had replaced many of the homes.That year Lillian Wald, a young graduate
nurse from the New York Training School for Nurses, began teaching a class in
home nursing and hygiene to immigrant women in the neighborhood.

One morning a little girl appeared, saying her mother could
not attend the class because she was ill.Wald followed the girl to her squalid tenement room.She later wrote she traveled “over broken
roadways…between tall, reeking houses…across a court where open and unscreened
closets were promiscuously used by men and women, up into a rear tenement, by
slimy steps…and finally into the sickroom.”She said “that morning’s experience was a baptism of fire.Deserted were the laboratory and academic
work of college.I never returned to
them.”

With her friend, Mary Brewster, Lillian Wald established the
Visiting Nurses Service using donated funds.By January 1894 the pair had visited more
than 125 families.In the spring of 1895
German-Jewish banker Jacob Schiff purchased the house at No. 265 Henry Street to be used by fledgling organization.

The house was enlarged with a full third floor, its windows
being carefully matched and a modest but architecturally-appropriate cornice
installed.Soon there were eleven residents in the
house, including nurse Lavinia Dock, an ardent suffragist, feminist and union
organizer.A diverse group, the women lived
and worked together, arising for the 7:30 breakfast followed by a meeting to
discuss the day’s schedule and to address any problems or difficult
situations.The nurses went into the
field, returning for lunch most often, and teaching in the afternoons.

A cooking class, the Good Times Club, cost five cents per
week and was a favorite in the neighborhood.Immigrants could learn English here and study rooms were provided.The residents of the area showed their
gratitude however they could.

On June 8, 1902, the New-York Tribune reported “At the
Nurses’ Settlement, No. 265 Henry-st., there is a small but good collection of
brasses.Miss Lillian D. Wald, the
headworker, Miss Waters and others of the resident nurses are great admirers of
foreign metals and…they often receive gifts from their Yiddish neighbors and
patients.”The article quoted Waters “We
have two brass samovars—one very old and valuable.We use one every day, while the other is kept
in readiness for company or festive occasions.The samovar is an ideal teapot, being clean, economical, convenient and
decorative.”

The women of the Nurses’ Settlement were accustomed to
speaking out against injustice and civil wrong.When police allegedly over-reacted when the
funeral of Rabbi Joseph erupted into a full-scale riot in the summer of 1902,
one of the residents spoke out.“Jane W.
Hitchcock of 265 Henry Street, who is connected with the Mercy Settlement,
declared that policemen had handled women with unnecessary force,” reported The
Times on August 20.

Lillian Wald wrote of the myriad illnesses the nurses dealt
with in the first years of the 20th century.

There were nursing infants, many of them with the summer
bowel complaint that sent infant mortality soaring during the hot months; there
were children with measles, not quarantined; there were children with
opthalmia, a contagious eye disease; there were children scarred with vermin
bites; there were adults with typhoid; there was a case of puerperal
septicemia, lying on a vermin-infested bed without sheets or pillow cases; a
family consisting of a pregnant mother, a crippled child and two others living
on dry bread; a young girl dying of tuberculosis amid the very conditions that
had produced the disease.

In 1903 Schiff donated the house to the Settlement.Three years later the house next door, at No.
267, was donated by another German-Jewish philanthropist, Morris Loeb.By now the settlement had expanded its
services to offer a summer camp.Camp Henry
was located upstate near Peekskill and every summer around 45 boys, “all from
the Ghetto,” as described by The Sun, enjoyed fresh air and escape from the
city.

Tragedy struck Camp Henry in the summer of 1905 when the
assistant director, 24-year old Arthur Sobel, drowned while swimming in the
lake.On July 24 The Sun reported “The
boys of the camp and others dived into the lake hundreds of times to-day for
the body, but were not successful.”

From its modest beginnings in the old house on Henry Street,
Lillian Wald’s settlement had burgeoned by now.A kindergarten had been established at No.
279 East Broadway (later moved to a house on Montgomery Street), additional
residential space for two nurses was acquired on one floor at No. 52 Henry
Street, dancing and gymnasium classes were conducted in the Children’s Aid
Society building, and domestic science and home nursing classes were held at
No. 226 Henry Street.In 1905 the number
of nurses had risen to twenty-four.

Operating the expanded Settlement was not inexpensive.During the week of March 15 to 22, 1920 a
fund drive sought to raise $1 million.The Settlement, the largest visiting nurse service in the country, now
had 185 nurses on staff.In 1919 43,946
sick people received care.An
advertisement in The Survey noted that the nurses attended to 614 births in
that year.“In the entire city 4,418
little lives were watched over by the nurses during the first month of life
with a loss of only 72 babies.”

When Lillian Wald retired in 1933 after four decades of
service, her nursing staff had risen to 265.They still climbed tenement stairs and rode subways to reach sick
patients.That year they would make
550,000 home visits.Wald died in 1940
following a long illness and four years later the Settlement was
reorganized.The Visiting Nurses Service
moved uptown while the Henry Street Settlement remained to focus on the needs
of the immediate population.

The Settlement’s administrative offices remain in the three
old Federal-style homes at Nos. 263 through 267 Henry Street.In 1966 the houses were designated New York
City landmarks and in 1992 No. 265 was restored.Amazingly, throughout its century of use by
the Settlement, the exquisite doorway and the original ironwork of the stoop survive.The handsome home endures not only as an rare
architectural landmark, but as an important part in New York’s social history.

Close inspection of No. 265 at the center of the three Settlement houses reveals the line in the brickwork where the third floor was added -- photo by Alice Lum

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

As the Civil War drew to a close, the Murray Hill
neighborhood attracted wealthy merchant class residents who moved into
wide brownstone rowhouses.The south
side of East 38th Street, between Madison and Park Avenues was lined
with four-story Italianate homes including No. 38, the home of Henry Randel and
his wife, the former Caroline Malvina Perrine.

Earlier, in 1840, Randel had partnered with James Baremore to
form the high-end jewelry company Randel & Baremore.The pair opened their first store at No. 32
North Moore Street.In 1851 they hired
Chester Billings as a clerk.Fifteen
years later Billings became a partner and the firm was renamed Randel, Baremore
&amp Billings; Co.

The firm would probably have been lost in the tangle of
upscale jewelers at the time if it were not for a daring step Randel and
Baremore took shortly after opening.At
a time when wealthy women were judged by their pearls, Randel and Baremore
focused on diamonds.Years later the
New-York Tribune would remember “they determined to make diamonds their
specialty, and in this they were pioneers, as no diamond specialists existed
here at that time.”

It was a risky move.Americans were largely disinterested in cut gemstones; however Randel, Baremore & Billings now
held a near-monopoly in the diamond trade in New York.The partners amassed personal fortunes.

James Baremore traveled to France in 1867.New York was shocked to receive the news that
the 48-year old died in Paris on Friday, September 27.The body had to be transported home on a
steamer, and almost a month later, on Friday October 18 at 2:00 in the
afternoon, Baremore’s funeral was held in the parlor of the Randel home at 38
East 38th Street.

The home would be the scene of another unexpected funeral on
Wednesday, January 28, 1874.Caroline’s
brother, Isaac C. Perrine, died near Omaha on January 23.His body was brought back to New York for the
38th Street funeral.

Henry Randel and Chester Billings took another bold step in
1880.The New-York Tribune said “they
took up diamond cutting, and this they carried on in the American style…This
method aims at producing effect rather than conserving the weight of the gems.”Their pioneering method focused on brilliance
rather than size.Once again their
daring paid off; prompting the Tribune to say their “enterprise was most
successful.”

The successful firm owned its own building -- King's Views of New York (copyright expired)

By now the firm now
had two branches overseas.The Tribune noted
that “But, besides diamonds, this house deals largely through its London and
Amsterdam offices in rubies, sapphires, opals, emeralds and pearls and their
designs for the settings and arrangements of these gems give them high rank as
manufacturers of jewelry.”

The Randel family received a scare on March 30, 1885.While traveling in Washington DC the 68-year
old Henry Randel “was suddenly prostrated at dinner,” as reported in The
Sun.The resilient jeweler recovered
however and it would be another twelve years before he finally retired.

On February 23, 1897 Henry Randel and Chester Billings
issued a Notice of Dissolution.The
partnership was dissolved “by mutual consent” and continued business under the
name of Chester Billings & Son.Ironically, it was Billings who died later that same year.

The Randel’s daughter, Emelie, was no longer in the house by
now.Divorced, she married the
staggeringly-wealthy director of the Standard Oil Company, Henry Huttleston
Rogers, in 1896.Her aging parents kept
up their annual pilgrimages to various summer resorts, along with the rest of
New York’s wealthy citizens.For the summer
season of 1900 they took “the Hathorn Cottage” in Saratoga and the following
year leased the William Kent Cottage in Tuxedo, New York.

But Henry’s age was showing.In 1900, on the advice of H. H. Rogers, he
traveled to Georgia for medical attention.It was an idea that annoyed Samuel Clemens.On April 8 of that year the author wrote a
fiery letter to Rogers from London which said in part:

"Now you get some Plasmon of Butters, and give it to Mrs.
Rogers and her father, and you will find good results.In any case it will do away with
indigestions, and that is something. Why did you send Mr. Randel to Georgia?There was no use in it.You should have sent him to Dr. Helmer,
corner of 36th and Madison avenue—osteopath.Can’t I beat it into your head that
physicians are only useful up to a certain point?There their art fails, and then one osteopath
is worth two of them.”

While the Randels were in Tuxedo Park the following year,
Henry fell ill again.The New York Times
reported on July 28, 1901 that “Mr. Henry Randel, who occupies the William Kent
cottage, lies seriously ill at Tuxedo, having suffered a stroke of apoplexy
last week.Fears are entertained for his
recovery and the family have been sent for, and are now constantly with him.”

The Times was a bit tardy in its reporting.Henry Randel had been dead for two days when
the article came out.The body of the
84-year old was brought back to the house on 38th Street, where his
funeral was held on Monday, July 29 at 10:30 a.m.

Within the year Caroline Randel left the house she and her
husband had shared for over half a century.She moved to No. 667 Madison Avenue and the 38th Street house
was offered for sale.It was undoubtedly
no coincidence that the buyer of the family home was Emelie Rogers’ step-son,
H. H. Rogers, Jr.

photo by Alice Lum

Rogers lost no time in updating the architecturally
out-of-fashion home.Like other wealthy
homeowners in the still-upscale neighborhood, he gave the old house a
facelift.Rogers commissioned architect
Charles Brigham to design an entirely new façade.What resulted was an imposing limestone mansion
overflowing with classical details—scrolled broken pediments embracing carved
urns over the parlor windows, two-story fluted pilasters at the upper floors,
menacing carved lions heads in the brackets of the limestone balcony and elaborate
oversized volutes that rolled away from the free-standing Corinthian entrance
columns.

photo by Alice Lum

Unusual for the East Side of Manhattan, Brigham used a
dog-leg stoop.But unlike its West Side
counterparts, he treated it imperiously.Squared columns with Ionic pilasters supported four classical urns.Ornate ironwork provided a screen and regal
iron gates protected the service entrance.

The handsome treatment of the dog-leg stoop created an even more regal appearance -- photo by Alice Lum

As 38 East 38th Street was receiving its
make-over, Hugo Baring was arriving in New York.On May 18, 1902 The New York Times reported
that “Hugo Baring, a brother of Lord Revelstoke and Cecil Baring, will take the
latter’s place in the banking house in this city.Cecil Baring returns to England.”

The 26-year old was already a member of the firm Baring
& Co. at No. 15 Wall Street and before long would hold memberships in New
York’s most exclusive clubs—The Union, Racquet and Riding, and Tuxedo
Clubs among them.He was quickly
established as one of society’s most eligible bachelors.

That bachelorship ended in March 1905 when he married.The renovated house on 38th Street
was now worthy of titled British and the following year The Times noted that “Hugo
Baring and his wife, Lady Evelyn Baring, are at 38 East Thirty-eighth Street
for the Winter.”

Following the Barings, the family of Winthrop Burr took the
house.1907 was an important year for
the Burrs as daughter Rosamond was being introduced to society.On December 5 Mrs. Burr hosted an afternoon
tea for Rosamond, followed by a dinner “of fourteen covers.”Helping Rosamond and her mother receive were
six other young socialites.

The following evening twenty-eight guests dined in the Burr
mansion.Afterward Mrs. Burr gave a
dance in the Assembly Room of the Colony Club.The impressive guest list included the top names in New York
society:Fish, Roosevelt, Harriman,
Gould, Morgan, Sloane, Townsend among them.Guests expected favors and Mrs. Burr’s seem somewhat surprising to
modern minds.“There were four sets of
favors, including fancy lace bags and jardinières of ferns, assorted baskets trimmed
with roses, toy monkeys holding ferns, carved Japanese daggers, hand mirrors
tied with ribbons, velvet cat pin cushions and shaving pads,” noted The Times.

After the cotillion supper was served for the 210 guests.

In 1909 the Burrs moved to No. 20 West 58th
Street for the winter season.Before
long the magnificent house would be leased as upscale furnished
apartments.In 1919 Walter Franklin took
an apartment here and a year later newspapers reported that “William Alpheus
Nettleton has taken an apartment for the Winter at 38 East Thirty-eighth
Street.”

Through the 1920s well-to-do tenants included Mrs. F. Stanhope
Philips, who also lived in Santa Barbara, California; Dr. John P. A. Lang, and
Dr. Samuel Gottesman.Dr. Gottesman was
living here in 1925 when he married Lillie Simmonds and the couple was still
here in 1929 when they announced the arrival of their baby daughter on January
28.

In 1936 the house was structurally converted to apartments—just
two per floor with a doctor’s office in the basement level.Among the tenants was Leonard M. Holland who
had been wine steward at the Waldorf-Astoria for 12 years when he died in his
sleep in his apartment in 1945.

In 2006 the house was renovated once again.The doctor’s office remains in the basement
level; but now the house is divided into a triplex stretching from the parlor
through the third floor, and three apartments above.Today the exterior of the imposing house is
little changed from the 1902 renovation.

No. 38 sits among other turn-of-the-century updates. Down the street an Italianate survivor from the 1860s is a reminder of how No. 38 appeared when Henry Randel lived here. -- photo by Alice Lum

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Unlike some privileged boys George Washington Vanderbilt was intrigued by books.When only 12 years old he began cataloguing each book he read.A series of small notebooks, entitled Books
I Have Read, recorded each title, numbered consecutively, along with the
author.His affection for reading and
books got him in trouble with his mothing, Maria Louise Kissam Vanderbilt that
same year.On May 27, 1875 he wrote in
his dairy

“I have been way down town today and have displeased Mother,
she gave me two dollars to buy a sketch book with which I went to four stores
but could not get one so I spent it on books, besides $2.65 of my own money
which Mother did not like…I got two volumes of the Young American Abroad.And the last volume of the Yacht Club.”

Vanderbilt kept his list current and when he died on March
6, 1914 at the age of 51 following an appendectomy, his last entry was No. 3159—Volume
III of Henry Adams’ “History of the United States.”George Vanderbilt was reading an average of
81 books a year at the time of his death.

Few New Yorkers had the money or leisure time that enabled George
Vanderbilt to pursue reading.The few libraries that existed prior to 1880 were not open to the
general public.But that year the Free
Circulating Library was incorporated.The
response was so great that the sidewalks around the first library—a single room
in a building on 13th Street near Fourth Avenue—were blocked.At closing time on one occasion, of the 500
books only two were left on the shelves.

George W. Vanderbilt - from the collection of the Library of Congress.

It was the sort of worthy project that caught the attention of
the bibliophile Vanderbilt and he decided to fund a branch of the Lending
Library in Greenwich Village, opposite Jackson Square.

In 1887 Vanderbilt was no stranger to Richard
Morris Hunt.Work was underway that year
on George’s stable on Staten Island and on the Vanderbilt Family Mausoleum,
both designed by Hunt.Ten years earlier the
esteemed architect had designed the massive William K. Vanderbilt chateau on Fifth
Avenue and within a year he would begin work on the palatial Marble House in
Newport, also for William.

George’s library would be less grandiose, but no less
enchanting.In 1887, two years before
Andrew Carnegie donated his first library in the United States; the first
bricks were laid for George Vanderbilt’s.There was no fanfare associated with the opening of the library on July
5, 1888.A small listing in the New-York
Tribune that day with the heading “What Is Going On To-Day” simply noted “Opening
new Vanderbilt Library, Jackson Square.”

New-York Tribune, March 24, 1901 (copyright expired)

The handsome new building was, nevertheless, an “ornament”
to the neighborhood.Unlike the frothy confections that
characterized some of the other Vanderbilt projects; the library was a take on a Flemish guildhall.It was a very early example of the architectural fad that would sweep
the city in the next decade recalling Manhattan’s Dutch roots.A red-tiled roof hid behind a curving Flemish
Renaissance gable and wrought iron strapwork decorated the red brick façade.Wrought iron numerals on the four piers,
just above the first floor, gave the date of construction: 1887.A touch of Gothic was introduced by the trefoil
decorations in the blind arches of the window openings.

Wrought iron numbers spell out the date of construction.

Vanderbilt’s completed gift to the city cost him $40,000—about
$900,000 in today’s dollars.By 1892
the Free Circulating Library consisted of four buildings, including
Vanderbilt’s.“The Memorial History of
the City of New-York” that year said “Wealthy citizens have contributed
generously to this admirable free library, and its benefit to the community at
large is evident from its circulation of nearly half a million of volumes in
1892.”

Old rowhouses still abut the library in this stereopticon view -- NYPL Collection

In 1899 the chief librarian, J. Norris Wing instituted a
innovation nearly unheard of in public libraries:the “Open Shelf” system. Until
now, the books were kept under the safeguard of librarians.The concept of allowing the public to run
free among the inventory of books was unheard of.But Wing insisted that “The only proper way
to manage a circulating library so as to avoid all unnecessary delay and
friction in the bringing together of book and reader, is to run it upon the
open-shelf system.”

The Children's Reading Room -- photo NYPL Collection

Until that year, readers looked over the library’s catalog
of books, noted the number of the volume he wanted, filled out a call slip and
waited until the librarian returned “after a weary search to inform him that
the book is out,” said The Sun.Under
Wing’s system, the reader simply wandered the shelves, chose his book and
checked it out.

The Sun was impressed.“From 1880, when the first branch was opened, up to about eighteen months
ago the public was excluded from the places where the books were kept, and when
the proposition was made to give the readers free access to all books in the
library many of the attendants shook their heads.”The experiment was tried with one branch,
then two, and by August 1899 all the libraries were on board.

Librarians were pleased--instead of running back and
forth all day with stacks of books they were giving recommendations and
advice.“Now we are fresh when our day’s
work is done,” said one.“Moreover, we
know that we can and do help the people who use the library to an extent not
one of us thought possible under the old system.Before we mostly only carried books; now we
advise about books.”

The newspaper pointed out the two drawbacks:wear and tear on the books and theft.Nevertheless, the advantages outweighed the
negatives.“I do not know how many books
were stolen elsewhere,” said one librarian, “but in my branch the thefts do not
amount to anything worth speaking about, and even if they’d steal much more, I
would still prefer the open shelf.”

There was one other problem that some associated with the
open shelf system—the transfer of communicable disease.On November 11, 1897 Dr. John S. Billings,
the director of the New York Public Library spoke in the Jackson Square Library
regarding “The Disinfection of Books.” Among his comments he said “At an
investigation made by the State Board in Iowa three years ago it was found that
six cases of scarlet fever were undoubtedly communicated through circulating
library books.Other diseases may be
communicated in the same way.There is
not much danger o this from the edges of cards, although they are foul and
filthy, and undoubtedly filled with bacteria.”

Dr. Billings presented the problem of disinfecting
books.Heat could not be used, since
sufficient heat would destroy the bindings and pages; and applying chemicals
was equally counter-productive.“We
cannot apply a solution of corrosive sublimate or zinc chloride.The fumes of burning sulphur are both
inadequate and undesireable.”

Instead he suggested placing the contaminated book under a
bell jar with a saucer of formaline.Although apparently effective it was a labor- and time-consuming process.Nevertheless, nearly a decade later the fears
of Dr. Billings would manifest themselves at the Jackson Square Library. The janitor and his family lived in the
building and in January 1908 his son fell ill with scarlet fever.

The library was shut down indefinitely.When asked how long the building would be
closed, Dr. Billings told reporters “That depends on the physician in charge of
the case.As soon as he orders the
patient removed the building will be fumigated and opened.”The New-York Tribune sympathized with the
neighborhood readers.“In the mean time
the book lovers who patronize that institution will have to walk a half-mile or
more to the nearest branches of the New York Library, on Leroy and West 23d
streets.”

A few years earlier, in 1904, William Howe Tolman in his “The
Better New York” praised the Jackson Square Library.“It circulates about 126,00 volumes a year,
and its cheerful reading room is filled day and evening with more than a
hundred readers.An interesting feature
to be noticed upon entering the main library is the glass-covered cases against
the wall, where are placed clippings from the illustrated papers of the day,
depicting subjects which are interesting to people of New York at the
time.This is done weekly to create
interest in current events, and after looking at the pictures anyone can
consult the librarians as to proper reading in connection with each
subject.To help the musically inclined
in the study of operas presented at the Metropolitan Opera House during the
season, scores are lent for a period of three days each.”

The effectiveness of the library was in part enough to
prompt a Department of Finance investigative committee to push for
discontinuance of city support of a nearby recreation center.That same year it reported “As to the library
feature, there is no reason whatever for its existence in this centre, as the
Jackson Square Branch of the New York Public Library…is in the same block and
meets all the needs of the community in this respect.This library is open in the evening until 9 o’clock
and is well patronized by the young people.”

By the Great Depression the Library had lost its ornamental weathervane -- photograph NYPL Collection

The innovative programs, like the current events boards,
continued throughout first half of the 20th century.Art displays were a regular event.In 1951 there were an exhibition of drawings
of pre-war Korea by a young Korean student and artist, Sam-Kih Min; and another
of artwork by Turkish school children.In the 1950s “story-hour” entranced children as story books were read
aloud.

The library building gained a replacement weather vane in the renovations.

Then in 1961 in order to save the marvelous Jefferson
Market Courthouse, plans were laid restore and convert that building to a library.While the proposal would save the threatened
landmark, it would mark the end of the line for the Jackson Square
Library.Richard Morris Hunt’s Dutch
fantasy sat empty until artist Robert Delford Brown purchased it in 1967 for
$125,000 as his residence and headquarters for his First National Church of the
Exquisite Panic, Inc.In 1970 an
interior renovation by Paul Marvin Rudolph, among the world’s preeminent modernist
architects, was completed. “The AIA
Guide to New York City” said of the completed project, “Brown and Rudolph’s
conversion was a thoughtful, subtle endeavor, carving light-filled spaces from
the dark masonry rooms within the old library.”

The New York Times was less appreciative.Nancy Hass, thirty years later on March 2,
2000, said “The formal front doors and a chunk of the ground floor had been
hacked away in a renovation of shocking proportions.In their place was a rubble-strewn gated
courtyard that dropped off sharply in the center, where a metal stairway led to
an exposed basement.The house seemed to
cantilever precariously above the sidewalk.”

Brown affixed a plaque to the façade “The Great Building
Crack-Up.”Inside, Rudolph’s interiors
reflected his genius at melding light and lines into spacial geometry and
visual cohesion.(Nancy Hass preferred
the term “zany pad.”)

It would not last all that long, however.Around 1995 television writer Tom Fontana discovered
and purchased the now-available building.Having paid about just under $2 million for the structure, he then nearly
doubled the cost by having Paul Rudolph’s work obliterated.New York Magazine, in 1997, called the
process “de-geniusing it.”

The vaulted glass ceiling, seen above in the Adult Reading Room, was painting over during WWII. Bentley painstakingly removed the paint and restored the ceiling. photo NYPL Collection

Fontana, who told The Times “the place was ridiculous,”
commissioned architect Ron Bentley to redesign the interiors. In the annihilation of the Rudolph
design, Bentley fashioned an upscale single family residence on
the two upper floors.Fontana’s offices
were installed in the lower two stories where Rudolph’s single surviving feature, the
entrance, remains.